Epitome
by Katlyn R
Summary: Chapter Seven up. Angela Shepard has reached the end of the line; her brothers are locked up, and she's dealing with an even bigger problem of her own. PonyboyAngela. Continuation to 'Prom Nights'.
1. One

**Outsiders and That Was Then, This Is Now are both necessary to understand this story. This is sort of a continuation to my previous fic, Prom Nights, but its not really required to understand this story, although it'll help.**

I once overheard someone say that I was the epitome of a greaser girl.

I wore too much make-up, swore too much, laughed too loud, and am too easy with boys. I was the sister of the toughest greaser in all of the East Side. But Tim was locked up right about now, Curly was in juvenile hall, and I was alone with mom and her boyfriend.

It's the end for me. At seventeen, I have crossed the line of having a reputation to being an embarrassment. Exaggerations and rumors have destroyed my life to the point of collapse. And I don't even think Tim would stick up for me now.

There are so many things I could have done differently.

I could have worn longer skirts and higher necklines. I could have never dated Bryon Douglass in the first place. I could have told Curtis straight away that I didn't tell that kid to do nothing to him, especially not to try to crack Ponyboy's head open with a bottle. But Shepard's don't make excuses for themselves. They're proud of everything credited to them.

I could have never slept with Jimmy Pickens. I could have waited longer to find out whether or not I was pregnant, rather than telling Tim and having him force me to marry Pickens straight off. I could have tried it out with Pickens, rather than leaving the minute I found out I wasn't pregnant.

I could have worn less make up and had a cleaner mouth. I could have quit sleeping around and drinking too much.

But then I wouldn't be Tim and Curly's sister. Its bad enough to be a greaser girl. But there's nothing worse than a grease trying to act like a soc. And no one could accuse me of that.

Maybe if I had explained to Ponyboy right after that guy tried to crack his head in, it wouldn't have escalated to this point. Maybe then his brothers wouldn't have hated me. Maybe then I wouldn't have had to do what I did.

But it wasn't about his brothers. Well, not entirely about them. I couldn't do that to Ponyboy. I know right now he's upset, but he'll get over it. He's going away to school in a week, he'll be so caught up in his new life that it won't take long. It'd be worse if I made him stay. If I told him the truth.

He couldn't leave then. He'd have to quit everything; he couldn't go to school anymore. He'd be abandoning everything he had worked for. He would never forgive me for it. And his brothers especially wouldn't.

Ponyboy will be fine. He'll get caught up in school and forget about me, God willing.

But I still don't know what I'm going to do. No one knows yet. I barely even found out myself a week ago. In a few months everyone will know, and it'd be impossible for Ponyboy not to find out.

What'll Tim say? I've embarrassed him too many times, he won't forgive me again. This baby growing inside me is going to tear down the last final shreds of my life.

I won't be the tough greaser girl anymore. I'll be the one who became a victim of her surroundings.

I scratched at the pink plaid draping my bed, its been the same one for years. I remember when I used to have nightmares, I would make Tim come in here and lay down with me. He's real soft when he wants to be; its not easy for him to drop his hood front, but when he does, there's no one sweeter.

He'll be out in two weeks, and for the first time, I wish it were longer.

A thud sent a tremor through the house, and I knew Frank was throwing something, probably aiming for Mom. I knew if this escalated enough, Frank would head upstairs to my room to scream for one reason another. I grabbed a sweater and walked down the rear steps and through the back door, and before long I was walking the streets of downtown Tulsa.

I passed the drug store, where two fourteen year old girls were having milk shakes and giggling. That age seemed forever ago; three years can feel like a century. I felt so old then; I thought I was mature and knew everything there was to know. Looking back, I didn't know anything. I wonder if that's how I'll feel three years from now about how I am today. I'll have a three year old child then.

I tried to get past the burger joint where my brother's outfit hangs out as quick as possible, I'm not in the mood for their antics or hackling.

And then I saw him. He was standing on the corner in front of the diner, smoking a cigarette. I wanted to run, run as fast as I could back in the other direction, run back home, run back and get slapped around by Frank, anything but see him.

But then he saw me first. And I couldn't run.

**Alright, so, there may be more chapters coming, or this may be a one-shot, depending on the reviews. For background info on this story, check out my other fic, Prom Nights. **


	2. Two

This chapter is dedicated to **LiveOnTheEdge**, whose review really inspired me to continue the story. Thank you so much for the support.

* * *

I was hoping he would turn and walk away; maybe he already hated me. But he kept looking at me, he wouldn't take his eyes off me. It was only the first day of September, but I was already shivering.

Oh no. He was walking towards me. No. No. No. Fifteen feet away. Ten feet. Five feet.

I braced myself for whatever he would say. I wouldn't fall, I wouldn't give in. This is the way it had to be. I was strong.

Until he spoke.

"Angel…"

"Please don't make this any harder, Ponyboy."

It was a few seconds before he replied. "Its already too hard."

I couldn't say anything. He looked so sad, I wish he would stop looking at me. I wish he would tell me to fuck off, to tell me he never wanted to see me again. I hated that look in his eyes. He looked so hurt, and I hated the fact that it was my fault. But I'm doing the right thing, I know I am.

I knew my face was turning red and my eyes were starting to water. I hated myself for it; I wanted him to think that he was just some passing summer fling, I didn't want him to know that he was the only person besides Tim or Curly that I ever felt love for. I wanted him to hate me. But I know he couldn't; he wouldn't.

It had been over two months since that night. That night at the playground where he kissed me and I knew. I knew that he loved me; that he would take care of me and would make sure I was never hurt.

I still know that now.

I'll never forget that first night we were together. We lay in my bed afterward, laying awake until the hour when he had to go home to meet his curfew. That was my second night back in my mother's house; Tim had been arrested that day, so I could no longer stay in his apartment. My mother and her boyfriend were out drinking; they wouldn't be home until early morning. Ponyboy and I lay there, with the only light in the room coming from the street lamp filtering in through the window. I lay there for hours, pressed up against his bare chest, wishing he'd never have to leave. I must have dozed off for a few minutes, because when I woke he was walking around the small room, half dressed, looking for the remainder of his clothing.

When he found it, he came back and laid down next to me. He waited ten minutes before kissing me on the forehead and climbing out my window. I stayed awake that night, and I don't think I stopped smiling for hours.

What I wouldn't give to go back to that moment. When his eyes were happy, not pleading like they were now.

I hated lying to him. But he could never know the truth.

"Ponyboy, its just not possible. It would never have worked, and there's no point in wasting our time in trying. Just forget about me, will you? Its over."

I turned and walked in the direction I had came. I didn't have to turn around to know the hurt look on his face. My face burned; I hated crying. I wanted to run back, run back to him, kiss him, have him hold me, tell him how sorry I was, have him take me back and love me again. I wanted this child inside of me to evaporate, to go away as quickly as it had come, to never bother me again. How could something that brings some people so much joy cause me so much pain?

I wish he would run after me; that he would chase me down and tell me that he wouldn't take no for an answer; that I was his, and he wouldn't have anyone else.

He always knew when I needed him.

I heard his feet hitting the pavement behind me.

* * *

I shouldn't have done this. I made it worse, even worse than before if possible. 

He was asleep next to me, breathing gently while I laid awake. I shouldn't have felt this calm; I should have been panicking, but I couldn't help feeling safe when he held me.

I liked his house best; it didn't have the memories that mine had. His brothers were working during the day, and we spent countless lazy afternoons, half dressed; talking, sleeping and making love over the past two months.

I told him things that I've never told anyone. I told him about my brief memories of my father, which only consist of him trying to teach me how to cheat at cards. I told him about the night that Frank got drunk and so violent that I crouched under the bushes in the neighbor's yard all night, waiting for Tim to find me. I told him about the first time Tim was arrested; Curly bawled as they put him in handcuffs.

I don't know what he would say if I told him about the baby. It would ruin all his plans; his school, his career, all his dreams.

His brothers would curse me as a tricky whore who trapped him into marriage. They would say it wasn't his; I was just pinning him down because he was a responsible person.

I can't blame them. I can see how the world sees me, and I wouldn't believe myself either.

They had been nice to me; they had treated me well out of respect for Ponyboy. But I knew they were worried; they prayed that he would get over me and move on. They loved him so much; they knew he could do better. I knew he could do better.

I still don't know why he chose me. He could have any girl in the East Side, and could probably even get a soc if he tried. But instead he chose the girl with the worst reputation; the hardest one to love, and yet he loved me. He disregarded the advice of his brothers, of Randle, of Matthews, hell, I think even Curly told him to be careful.

He really loved me. And I was still planning on breaking his heart.

But he would recover, I know he will. He'll get over it, and this will become some memory that he thinks about every once and a while. A summer fling before he went off to college and met his future wife. I bet she'll be a goddamn virgin from Connecticut whose interested in politics and the environment.

He'll never know it, but it's the best thing I could ever do for him.

He would use me to advise his son not to get involved with the town whore, to warn him that all they can do is hurt you.

"What are you thinking about?" His eyes were still closed, I wondered how long he had been lying there awake.

"The future."

"The future as in tomorrow, or as in twenty years from now?"

"Both."

He was silent for a few minutes, before saying what I was dreading. "You know we're gonna have to talk about this at some point."

"Ponyboy, this was the last time. I shouldn't have even done this, and it can't happen again."

He didn't answer at first, but he finally opened his eyes.

"No, Angel."


	3. Three

**Hello, loves. The italics are the flashbacks, so the chapter goes like so: flashback, current day, flashback. Enjoy :)**

**Special thanks to Liz, who not only beta-ed, but also encouraged.

* * *

**

"_You know, walking around half dressed can get you into trouble."_

_I giggled as I walked around in underwear and Ponyboy's shirt. "In trouble with whom, may I ask?"_

"_Well, I'm not quite sure there, Angel, but I might have a slight idea…" I squealed as he picked me up, throwing me over his shoulder, and walking down the hallway_

"_Ponyboy! I swear, if you drop me-" _

"_Drop you? Well, if you really want me to…" He tossed me down onto the bed, looking at me for only second before climbing onto the bed, with me beneath him. _

"_May I ask what you think you're doing there, Mr. Curtis?"_

"_Well, you see," he began, while kissing my collarbone lightly, "I have this rather gorgeous girl lying under me, and its really very hard to not do anything, considering her current location."_

"_Oh, I'm so sorry then, I'll move right away to make it all very easy for you."_

_I giggled when he took my hands and pinned them above my head; he picked his head up from my neck, and looked at me, smiling. _

"_You're very presumptuous, Mr. Curtis."_

"_I try." I laughed lightly, watching his eyes. I loved when he look at me that way. "I love you, Angel."_

"_I know. I love you, too." He kissed me again, and we spent another August afternoon making love in his empty house. _

* * *

"Something happened, Angel, something you're not telling me." He wouldn't take his eyes off me. "You need to tell me." 

"There's nothing to tell."

"You're a good liar. But not good enough."

I could feel myself about to tell him, to let it all hang out. I had to leave before he found out, before those eyes forced me into revealing everything I shouldn't.

"I have to go." I sat up, ready to leave and never come back.

He grabbed my wrist, and pulled me back down. I was laying flat on my back, looking at the ceiling; I refused to look him in the eyes. He was laying on his side, leaning over me, and I knew if my eyes met his, it'd be the end of me.

His eyes always controlled me. From that first night at the playground when he looked at me, and told me without words that I would be his forever; to the first night we had been together when he looked at me, and said without a sound that he would always protect me; to every single time his eyes told me how much he loved me, how he would never leave me, how he would hold me in his arms forever and never let a living soul harm me in any way; to the afternoon when I told him that we couldn't do this anymore, when his eyes mourned for me.

It took every ounce of will power that I had not to look at those eyes.

"Angel…" He whispered, and that was all it took, I couldn't help but look at him.

Those eyes, those godforsaken eyes that I could never be stronger than. Those eyes that melted me into a little girl who was scared of the world but had one person who would always look out for her. Those eyes that begged for an answer, an explanation, a reason.

A reason that I couldn't give.

I had to lie. I had to make up something, if he knew the truth…it'd be over for him. I had to hurt him, hurt him enough so that he'd never try to come near me again.

"Ponyboy, this wasn't anything. It was sex, nothing more. What would be the point of continuing this any longer? Its already starting to get boring, so lets end it on a high note. Its over, Ponyboy…it never really started."

I didn't look at him again, I couldn't. I got dressed; I needed to get out as soon as possible. I could feel him watching me, he didn't take his eyes off me. I stopped in the doorway, with my back to him.

"Goodbye, Ponyboy."

* * *

_"Tell me something, Angel."_

"_Hm?"_

"_You still gonna love me ten years from now?"_

"_That's the plan."_

"_How about twenty years?"_

"_Pretty sure about that."_

"_I'm gonna love you, too."_

"_I know."_

"_We're gonna be happy, aren't we?"_

"_Yeah, we are. Promise me something, Ponyboy?"_

"_Anything."_

"_Promise you'll never leave me?"_

"_I promise."_

"_Promise we'll be together forever?"_

"_Forever."_

"_I love you."_

"_I love you, too."_


	4. Four

**I scared you guys, didn't I? Heh, don't worry, this isn't done yet.

* * *

**

I was so tired.

I have been for weeks now; constant exhaustion. I just want to climb into bed and not wake up for a week.

I've been living with Tim again ever since he got let out, it's nicer than living with Mom and Frank. Surprisingly, it's calmer living with the leader of the toughest gang in town than living with a middle-aged couple.

It was snowing outside;four days before Christmas. Christmas never meant much to me; it was really just like any other night when I was growing up. But I always loved the snow; the way you can tell that it snowed over night because of the way the street lights were reflected brightly through the window, the fresh smell that engulfed you every time you stepped outdoors, the soft crunch that broke the muffled silence that always came along with snow.

I was due at work in fifteen minutes; waitressing at the local diner didn't pay well, but I was flirtatious enough to receive decent tips. I bundled up against the cold, with a white hat and black coat.

I was tired already on the way to the diner, after eight hours on my feet I would be near passing out. But I needed rent money for Tim; I couldn't live there and lay around all day without giving Tim any amount of support.

Tim still didn't know I was pregnant. No one did, but I was wondering how much longer I could keep this up. I've heard of girls whose families didn't know they were pregnant until they were giving birth, but I always had a tendency to hold onto extra weight, and I knew before long my body would grab onto too much weight for me to keep anything a mystery anymore.

I guess I've been lucky. I've heard such horror stories about pregnancies, but the worst I've felt is exhausted.

The city seemed so quiet; the usual hustle and rowdiness were still there, but felt muted. The only sound I heard was the soft snow meeting my worn shoes, and then the tinkle of the bell over the door to the diner as I walked in.

I hung up my coat and tied on my apron; the diner was empty. Three o'clock on a Tuesday during snowfall didn't encourage many people to venture out to dinner. I was thankful for that; there was nothing worse than a room full of demanding customers.

People started to slowly file in at around six, and with them came two people who I really didn't like to see.

Ponyboy's brother and Randle came in every so often. They had been kind to me when I was with Ponyboy, and were polite to me now, but I could tell how they hated me. Especially his brother, his immense dislike for me was masked by a thin layer of civility, and I hated to know he felt that way because I had hurt his brother.

I wish this place had more than one waitress per shift.

I hated when they came in, it made me realize just how much I had actually hurt him. It took every part of me to convince myself over and over again that I had done the right thing; that I had saved him from being a college drop out with a wife and built-in-baby and dead end job.

"Hey guys, braved the weather, huh?"

"Aw, it's just a bit of snow."

"Looking forward to Christmas?"

"Can't wait, Ponyboy's coming home in two days." He met my eyes on the last statement, like he was imploring something, almost a dare.

He couldn't know how much what he had just said affected me.

He's coming back. He's been gone for three months, and now he's coming back. I can't see him, I lose any power I have around him.

I wonder if he hates me.

I don't know if I want him to hate me or miss me.

They were staring at me now, I couldn't get a word out.

"You guys must have really missed him."

"Of course, not the same without him."

"Does he like school?"

"He says so, but he's a bit homesick, I think it'll be good for him to be home for a few weeks."

I knew how uncomfortable I looked, I just needed to get away from that table. He was coming here, back home, for a few _weeks. _It'd be impossible for me not to see him, and I couldn't see him. He would know I was hiding something from him. He always knew.

"Well, what can I get you guys?"

"Burger and coke." Soda always got that, same as Ponyboy.

"Eh, same, I guess. It's cheap." Randle said that about whatever he ordered; it was always cheap.

"Okay, I'll be back in a bit."

I walked as fast as I could to the rest room, I crouched down in a stall, I could feel my eyes burning. He was coming, here, home, back to Tulsa. He would see me, he would know. He would force it out of me, those goddamn eyes would be able to read my every thought.

Maybe he hated me already. Maybe he believed what I said; maybe he truly thought that I hadn't felt anything but lust for him, that he was just someone to keep me entertained during a hot, boring summer.

But maybe he knew that wasn't true. If he had told me once, he had told me a thousand times; "Angel, you're a good liar, but not good enough."

That last day, the last time I saw him before he left, when I was leaving, his eyes never left me. I knew then that he didn't believe me, that he was trying to will me to turn around and tell him I love him and why I was going on with this masquerade.

Maybe absence doesn't make the heart grow fonder; maybe it makes you forget. Maybe he's seeing someone else, maybe he's happy. Maybe he's over me, and could see me in the next few weeks without a flutter of emotion; maybe I was just some random acquaintance from his past.

I knew that wasn't true.

For the first time in the past four months, I felt like I was going to be sick. The cold tile under my palms made me feel even worse, the fluorescent lights felt blinding. I felt my stomach churning, and threw myself over the toilet, ridding myself of my past two meals. Tears mingled with sweat; I couldn't see him. I don't know how many times I could see him and maintain this lie.

It was only half past six. I couldn't be home in bed crying for four and a half hours.

After ten minutes I stood up and splashed cold water on my face, leaning over the cheap porcelain sink. I looked at my reflection in the cracked glass; I looked old.

Old and weak and tired.

And then I felt it. It was quick, a light flutter, but I felt it. I gasped and reached for my abdomen. It was something. I felt it, there was something there.

I didn't want this baby, it was the last thing I ever wanted.

But I couldn't help but feel happy. It was the first time it ever seemed real; I was creating a life inside of me. A little life that was letting me know it was there, telling me that he was growing, big and strong.

And I smiled for the first time in months.


	5. Five

**Special thanks to Liz, who not only beta-s by gives _awesome_ story advice.

* * *

**

I sat waiting at the rickety kitchen table for Tim.

I heard him get up a few minutes ago; he'd be out soon. I made him coffee and sat there across from the cup waiting for him.

Then his door creaked open, and my tough older brother came out yawning.

"'Morning, girlie."

"Hey Tim."

"Hey, coffee? Thanks."

"No problem…I have to tell you something." His face changed immediately; he looked at me apprehensively before taking the seat in front of his mug.

"What's up, girlie?" He's been using that nick name for me for as long as I can remember.

I had to say it before I lost the power to. It was like jumping into a cold pool; you're so nervous, and you know it will sting upon impact, but after a few minutes, you get used to it and it feels warm. I whispered, barely audible, "I'm pregnant."

He stared at me. He was angry. Worse than I've ever seen him.

"Not again, Angela." I hated when he used my real name; it's the same as if he said he hated me.

"There never really was a first time, Tim."

"Well it was as good enough as though there were a first time, Angela, for what it did to our reputation!" He stood up at this point and paced over the same five feet.

"Tim, I'm sorry, its just-"

"Who is it, Angela? Who the hell is it?"

He couldn't know. The first thing he would do was run over to the Curtis's and tell him the second Ponyboy came home he was marrying me. He would ruin everything, everything for Ponyboy.

"I…I don't know."

"You don't know, Angela? What the fuck is wrong with you, how do you not know?" He was yelling now, I sat in the same chair, trying to sink into myself.

"Tim, please, I'm sorry…"

"Sorry's not good enough this time." He ended his pacing and walked to the door. "Be out by the time I get home tonight."

He slammed the door behind him.

* * *

I packed what little belongings I could carry into a black bag, and made my way down the apartment stairs. 

I didn't know where to go. Curly was probably sleeping at his girlfriend's house, but I knew even if I went to him he would side with Tim. Even at nineteen, he's still the little boy who idolizes his big brother.

I didn't really have any friends to go to. I had people throughout high school that I hung out with; drank with, got high with, slept with, but never really friends.

I wandered around until I got to tired and sat on the bench for the bus. I should have been scared, or worried, or at least anxious; but I was just tired.

He was coming home tomorrow.

Less the twenty-four hours from now. I wish I could just run away for the next few weeks, come back when I knew he and the threat that came with him were both gone. The way those eyes could just puncture my every thought, intercept them, and change them.

Sometimes I think he knows. He could always sense me; sense what I wanted, needed, hated, craved.

But I know he doesn't. If he did, he would never let me go on like this.

God, I hope he hates me. Hates me enough to turn and walk the other way when he sees me, to never come close enough to show me those eyes. To have so much dislike for me that he never wanted to see me again, wish I had never existed, that he had never met me.

But, God, I hope he still loves me.

Twelve hours later, I had just finished cleaning the tables after the last customer had left. My entire body ached, and all I wanted was a nice bed to climb into. I still hadn't even thought of where I was going to sleep tonight, but was forced to when the owner locked the door, said good night, and walked to his car. 

A train whistled in the background.

The train station was only a mile or so away; people who had connecting trains often slept in the station waiting for the morning.

If I thought about it too much, I would decide against it. And I was too tired to think.

After a long walk, I reached the bright lights of the station. It was nearly empty, just a few homeless people sleeping on benches. I didn't want to be one of them. But I don't have much of a choice.

I picked a bench off in the corner, hopefully where no one could see me easily. I hovered in the corner, casting a weary eye over everyone in the station. I was nervous, but my exhaustion took over within minutes.

* * *

My body ached even worse, my head pounded and my back felt like it had sparks shooting off my spine. 

I sat up, and tried to brush my hair with my fingers.

I should have heard the footsteps. They were right in front of me, I should have sensed him.

But I didn't. I had no idea anyone was there until I heard it.

"Angel?"


	6. Six

And the award goes to **Dreamer for lyf** for the Fastest Reviewer Ever!

Thanks, **Dreamer**, its really, _really_ appreciated.

And, as always, endless thanks to **Liz**.

* * *

I was looking right into those eyes.

Those eyes that had comforted and tortured me; soothed and worried me; assured me and questioned me. Eyes that had smiled at me, laughed with me, cried with me, lusted for me. Eyes that I wanted to never see again; eyes that I prayed to see every morning that I woke up.

"Angel?" He was smiling now.

I smiled, too.

"What are you doing here, Angel?"

I didn't know what to say. I could never tell him the truth, it'd be humiliating. I had no idea what to say, and it must have showed because his face changed from pleasantly surprised to worried.

"I thought you were living with Tim?"

"I was."

"What happened?"

"Tim couldn't afford to take me on anymore."

He raised an eyebrow at me; "You're a good liar, Angel. But you're not good enough."

"So I've heard."

"How long has this been going on?"

"Just last night. You just got home?"

"Yeah, decided to surprised everyone; they're not expecting my train to come in until tonight. And since I have about eleven hours before anyone's even home, how about breakfast?"

* * *

I knew I shouldn't have, but this is the first thing that's felt right in four months.

I knew now that he never believed what I told him. He knew he wasn't just a summer fling; I could tell by the way he looked at me; talked to me.

We hadn't spoken in months and yet I felt as though nothing had changed. I felt as though we would walk outside and it'd be a hot July day.

He told me about school, his classes, his roommate, and how much he missed home. I knew that growing up he had always wanted to leave Tulsa, and now that he had he realized how much home meant to him.

"I didn't think I'd miss everyone that much. I missed always having someone to hang out with; someone always home if I was bored. I didn't even realize I had it until it wasn't there."

"That's always the way it is." He smiled at me. He looked happy; happy with his life at school but also happy to be home.

"I knew I'd miss you, though."

Please don't start. I can't hold back anymore.

"I missed you, too."

He looked at me like he wanted to ask again, like he wanted to beg me until I divulged; shake me until the information was forced out of me.

"Angel, I'm not gonna ask. But just so you know, I will never stop waiting for you to tell me. I know you love me, no matter how much you say you don't and never did. I missed you, Angel, more than I missed anyone else and I will never give up on us. I can't love anyone like I love you, so I'm not going to try. Whatever it is, Angel, we can deal with it. And I can't understand why you're trying to keep this all to yourself. There's nothing you could tell me that I wouldn't forgive; nothing that I wouldn't still love you for. You and I can make it through anything, and I will never stop believing that."

I hated him. I hated how he could make me feel like I was exploding on the inside, being ripped apart. I hated seeing the pain in his eyes, the way he looked so desperate for just a small piece of information.

He grabbed my hands, and I knew I was crying now. "Please, Angel, please."

I couldn't look him the eyes. Those damn eyes would force it out of me.

"We should get out of here," I said. "We've been here three hours, the owner's gonna start to give us dirty looks."

* * *

We walked to his house, silent. It wasn't a awkward silence, though, it was calm, serene. He wanted to surprise his brothers tonight, so we stayed away from where they worked and didn't run into anyone.

I wasn't going to go in. I wanted to run and save those words from slipping from my mouth. I was going to say good bye and find Tim and beg him to let me come back to his apartment.

I was determined.

Until he took my hand and led me inside.

His house was always clean; neat and tidy. You'd never guess there wasn't a mother there cleaning up after three young men.

This house brought back too many memories. The kitchen where we had ice tea and sandwiches everyday without fail; the couch where he would tickle me until I begged him to stop; the wall next to the bathroom where he had taken me when we couldn't make it to the bedroom.

"I missed this house." I thought out loud.

He smiled. "Me too."

He was leaning against the back of the couch, staring at me. "Come here, Angel." He said, putting his hand out to me.

I felt like I was at a crossroad.

This would be one of the most defining points of my life. Where I would choose which life I would lead. A turning point, where I could marry the man I loved and crush his dreams at the same time, or lose him forever and know he had met his dream.

I would look back on this moment decades from now and remember that feeling; a rush of excitement and an attack of fear. I would think about how I had made that decision. How I could possibly choose; how I could embrace that excitement or overcome that fear. I couldn't do both. One or the other.

If I took his hand, I knew we'd be together forever. But would we be happy? Would he be happy knowing that he could have been successful? Or would he be happy with his wife, children, and useless job? Would be happy having a wife who loved him? Or would he hate her because she was the reason he couldn't live his dreams?

If I left, I'd never see him again. He'd never see me again the way he does now. Would he forget? Would I be a memorable first love that he occasionally thought about during nostalgic moments? Would I be a memory that he smiled at whenever the thought came to him? Would he move on, marry someone else? Would he be happy? He would never know, never know how much I loved him, how much I gave up for him.

And, for the first time, I thought about the baby. How would the baby feel if I forced his father to give up his dream? How would my child feel if his father was miserable because of what I did?

But what would the baby think if I had never even told his father that he existed? How would he feel knowing that I never even gave his father a chance to be a dad? How would he feel knowing that he could have grown up in a home where his parents loved him, but instead his mother made him grow up as a bastard child of the town whore?

I could leave Tulsa. Run away to some town miles away where no one knows me, where I wasn't the town whore. I could claim that my husband had been killed in Vietnam, that I was just the poor widow whose husband died when she was pregnant. I could waitress, make a life for me and my baby.

I love Ponyboy. I love him too much to ruin his dreams.

But do I love him if I don't give him a chance to know his own child?

If I took his hand, he would know what I'd been hiding. In his arms, I had no restraint. We'd be alone, lying his bed, making up for lost time. And he knew my body too well to not notice such a difference.

I would make a decision now that would change my life from here on in.

I could take his hand, and live a secure life with a husband who settled for less than he deserved.

Or I could leave, and know that he was as happy as I could make him.

I loved him too much to choose either way.


	7. Seven

**To clarify, yes, Tehsylvania, Angela Shepard was named as the sister of Tim and Curly in the not-exactly-a-sequel-but-it-kinda-was, That Was Then, This Is Now. And, yes, it is highly recommended.**

**And,of course, special thanks to the fellow New Yorker, Liz. **

**Now, this is a flashback chapter. This does not take place right after Chapter Six, but before the entire story.

* * *

**

"_You know, Angel, I think I might love you."_

_I giggled; he usually said that about once a day. The first time he was serious, after that he would say it with a knowing smile. That smile was different from any I had ever seen. And I knew it was different from any he had ever given._

_That was a smile specially reserved for me. Just like I had a smile for him, he had a smile for me. A smile that we had never smiled until that day when we knew we loved each other. A smile that we would never smile at anyone else; it was our's. I owned his and he owned mine. It was none others._

"_You know, Pony, I think I love you too."_

_Same response, every day. Sometimes its in the morning, sometimes in the late afternoon before we both have work, sometimes during lunch, sometimes when we're sprawled on the porch in the sweltering heat. But I always know I'll hear it. Sooner or later he'll say it, and sooner or later I'll respond. _

"_I'm gonna miss you when I go to school."_

"_I'm gonna miss you, too. Especially when I know there are gonna be young college girls who are dying for a handsome husband flocking around my gorgeous boyfriend." I said, with a smile at him._

"_They'll run as soon as they find out I'm from the East Side of Tulsa." He responded, laughing._

"_I doubt they've heard about the greasers from Tulsa all the way in New York. This isn't like you're going a few towns away, Ponyboy, this is different. No one's gonna know anything about you. You're starting over; it's a new life. All they know is that you're smart and handsome."_

"_Greasers are greasers all over the place, Angel. They're not unique to Tulsa."_

"_No…but what makes you think they'll know you're a grease?"_

"_Same way we can drive two hours and pick out the greases with no problem."_

"_Its gonna be different, Pony. You won't be a grease there, you'll just be another kid."_

"_Must be nice."_

"_Yeah, it must be. Let me know what its like."_

"_I wish you could come with me, Angel."_

"_That'd be nice…just you and me._

"_We'll do it someday, live just the two of us."_

"_A house of our own?"_

"_Just our's. And we'll be happy."_

"_Yeah, we will be happy."_

"_Hey, Angel?"_

"_Yeah?"_

"_Could you be happy living in Tulsa forever?"_

_I paused for a second before answering. Truth be told, this city had handed me a lot over the past years; it hadn't always been kind. But as much as I tried, I couldn't imagine myself living outside of this world that I had become so accustomed to. "Honestly, I don't think I could be happy anywhere else."_

"_You know, Angel, I used to think that all I wanted was to get out of this town. I wanted to leave the place where there were socs and greases, and not have to deal with it all anymore. But the closer I get to leaving, the more I can't believe that I'm not going to be a grease, and I might miss it. Its gonna be scary not always having someone to call, always having someone who will come and have your back no matter what. There's not a guy in all of East Side who wouldn't fight with me, as long as it was against a soc. And I don't think I'd be happy without that."_

"_Well then, Ponyboy, I don't think we're gonna have a problem deciding where to live."_

"_I guess not, Angel."_

"_You think your brothers will get used to me after a while?"_

"_They're already used to you."_

"_You know what I mean…You think they'll start to like me?"_

"_Angel, my brothers love me, and they've seen me unhappy a lot in the past few years, and I know they know me well enough to see that I'm really happy for the first time since Mom and Dad died. __And how could they not love the person who caused that?"_

"_I think you're exaggerating again."_

_He sat up off the front porch that we were lounging on, and took my hands and pulled me up so we were facing each other. _

"_You don't think you changed my life?"_

_I wasn't quite sure how to respond. God knows he's changed my life, but I never really thought about it the other way around. Did I really change his life? Did I really manage to make him happier? Could the sister of the two toughest hoods in town satiate the one boy from the East Side who truly didn't belong there?_

"_I guess I never thought about it."_

"_You should, Angel." I love his eyes; the way he watched me; the way he told me how much he meant what he said by the way he cast those eyes on me. "Maybe then you'd realize how important you are."_

"_You know you've changed my life, too, right?"_

"_I do now."_

"_You know, Pony, you're the first person who ever loved me that didn't have to. Tim and Curly, they have to love me, you know? But you don't…and you do anyway. it's a nice feeling."_

"_Yeah, Angel, it is."_

_With that, he stood up and pulled me up with him. It was such a hot summer, and this day had to be one of the hottest. The house was so stuffy that we could barely breathe and had taken to laying on the shady porch all morning. There was no wind that day, no relieving breeze to come by; just solid heat that made everyone feel like they were locked in a oven. I don't ever remember a summer like this in all my life; the heat was so oppressing, yet I never felt as free as I did that summer._

_I knew that we'd be together forever, but even if we weren't, I would never forget a second of that summer. The summer when I had fallen in love for the first time, the summer when I knew what it was to be needed, the summer when I knew that it was possible for me to be happy forever, as long as I had him._

_That summer of 1970 would be the most memorable one of my life; I would be able to recall every word, every whisper, every touch. I would remember every ice tea kiss that was shared after lunch. I would remember every time that I got sprayed with an ice cold hose after Pony claimed I was complaining about the heat too much. I would remember every time he picked me up and carried me into his room and kicked the door closed, even though no one else would be coming home. I would remember every time that we laid in his small twin bed after making love and were as close together as possible, regardless of the suffocating heat. _

_Every one of my senses would take away a memory from that summer. My ears would remember his voice when he would whisper to me, soft and sleepy, the ticking of the lawn sprinklers across the street, the tinkle of the ice cream truck as it slowly rolled down the pavement. My lips would remember the taste of ice tea, of vanilla ice cream with chocolate sprinkles, the taste of his lips on mine. My sense of smell would remember cedar chips and fresh soap and orange slices. My skin would remember his every touch, every caress, every time his body brushed against mine, it would remember every time I leaned against the wooden porch, every time I felt the plush grass under my feet as he chased me through the yard. And my eyes…my eyes would remember the noon sun shining in through open windows, the way he would always come off the porch to greet me in the morning, the look of his eyes when he told me he loved me. _

_I'll be on my death bed and these memories will never fade from me. I will always be able to recall every scent, every feeling, every sound, no matter what happens to me. He is someone that I will never be able to erase from my mind._

_No season will ever affect me or change my life as much as this one did. I found someone who changed my entire life with a single 'I love you'. I found a man who can protect me, and whose protection will never waver. I found a person who will love me regardless of my past, and who will want to be a part of my future._

_Nothing can separate us now. _

_I know it; we'll always love each other._

_We'll be together forever._


End file.
